


A Purple Glow in the Dark

by BenevolentErrancy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hacking, M/M, Mind Control, One Shot, Pre-Recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 03:42:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10913598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenevolentErrancy/pseuds/BenevolentErrancy
Summary: “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”-Genji lay on the ground, surrounded by Zenyatta's fallen, discarded orbs.  There was blood in his mouth and confusion - terror - in his veins.  Above him stood Zenyatta, fists raised, and lights glowing a strange, sickly purple.





	A Purple Glow in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> A writing prompt from my tumblr:  
> “You’re the only one I trust to do this” with Genyatta
> 
> just a quick fic whipped up last night to help distract me

“...Master...?”

Genji could taste blood his mouth. He must have bit his cheek on his way down; as it was, his entire head was ringing from the force of a metal fist slamming against the side of his head.  Even as resilient as he had become with Doctor Ziegler's intervention, he still had a human brain and much of his own head regardless, and such things did not take kindly to a solid block of metal smashing itself against the side one's face. Especially not an omnic's fist – there were no human muscles or pain responses to give an omnic any inhibition, their synthetic bodies could hit with a crushing force.  Of course, he had spent years with Overwatch, learning how to fight against just such a threat.

He had fallen now because he never could have prepared for that strength to come at him from where it had.

Zenyatta stood, metal feet solid against the ground after he had suddenly slumped and dropped from the air not seconds ago.  His fists were clenched and, rather than their usual stunning blue, the lights lining his brow glowed a strange, sickly purple.  He stared at Genji, and for the first time in many years Genji found himself thinking that Zenyatta's face looked cold and empty.

Dead.

Deadly.

“Why,” he tried to say, pushing himself upright, groping awkwardly for his sword.  He felt off-balanced, baffled, terrified.  Why would Zenyatta of all people attack him?  Why now?  They had been peacefully travelling together for months since Zenyatta left the monastery – Zenyatta had invited him to join him gladly and enthusiasticaly.  What had changed?

Zenyatta took a forceful step forwards, but Genji couldn't bring himself to draw his sword – instead, he took a stumbling step back, nearly tripping when one of Zenyatta's fallen orbs caught under his foot.  Unconcerned about the orbs that had crashed to the ground after he had fallen, Zenyatta simply advanced, kicking them mindlessly aside into the night's dark shadows.

Genji was aware enough this time to drop and roll when Zenyatta suddenly lunged, metal fist glinting in the moonlight.

“Master, please!  Stop!  What are you doing?” Genji wailed, leaping back, and back, and back again until his shoulders bumped against a building's brick wall.  Still his hand remained on his sword and still it remained sheathed.

“Ooh, this _is_ exciting.  Like a little television show, ninja and master in a great showdown!”

Genji's gaze shot up – and he nearly paid the price for his distraction when Zenyatta's fist shattered brick exactly where Genji's head had been a second ago.  Genji scampered away and then up onto the roof of a jeep, trying to keep distance from the omnic, while staring at the newcomer who had emerged from the shadows like sort of oni.

She glowed in the darkness.  Purple.  The girl stepped forward on light feet and waved her fingers at Genji playful as she grinned like a shark; the nails left streaks of light superimposed in the darkness. Under the fingers of her other hand, hexagons floated in the air like some alien keyboard.

She seemed to realize where he was staring, because she gestured to it and grinned at him.  “Like it?  A girl does love her toys.”  In demonstration she let her fingers flick across the floating icons.

In response Zenyatta's body twitched and stiffened, and then pirouetted where he stood.  Like a puppet on strings.

Genji's mouth was dry.  “Who are you?” he whispered into the night, as if any loud noise could break some sort of delicate balance that Zenyatta's life seemed to be hanging in.

“Aw, you don't know?” she said, a playful pout in her voice.  “I'd be hurt except... well, I'm not surprised.  Still, I've heard a lot about _you_ , Sparrow.”

Sparrow. The last person to call him that had been Hanzo.  A nameless dread was crawling up his spine.  “What do you want?” he demanded.

“Ooh, so _serious_.  Nothing much.  I came to make some new friends, and when I heard you were in town I simply could _not_ resist.  An omnic and a cyborg, all in one place?  Who to play with first!  From what I hear, that body of yours is a lot more than a fancy suit of armour, isn't it?  I wonder what would happen if I dug around in there a little – do you think I could stop your lungs? Your heart?  Now that _would_ be fun to find out.  But omnics are so tricky!  They really don't like people poking around in their brains, and that's what makes it a challenge, and I can never turn down a good challenge!  So I've decided on your little robot pet here; me and you will have to play another time.”

“Let him go,” said Genji, voice low.

The woman tapped her chin in a long, exaggerated motion.  “ _Hmm_ , noo, I don't think so.”

Now Genji did draw his sword, letting it cut through the air like a promise, and was already bounding towards her when all of a sudden...

Genji nearly fell over himself trying to stop.  Zenyatta had stepped between him and the woman, arms wide, face blank.  Waiting to be cut down.  The sword hung in the air.

The woman smiled at Genji from under hooded eyes and from behind Zenyatta's metal arms.  “Everything can be hacked... and everyone. And some people... in more than one way.”

“Tell me. What. You. Want.”  It came out as a snarl.  Genji was still searching Zenyatta's blank face, trying to find some glimmer of recognition, of life.

“Nothing much,” she cooed.  “Just a little information.”

“About the Shimadas?  I'll tell you whatever you want.  Just let Zenyatta go.”

“Pfft, please, I don't give a damn about _them_. The Shimadas have never been anything but local pests, they're hardly a _real_ player. No, _I'm_ interested in Overwatch.”

Genji stared.  The girl grinned all the wider, her teeth an unsettling white in the night's darkness.  “Aw, _pobrecito_ , are you not important enough to be told these things?  Overwatch is back in the business!  Ha, on the down-low, of course, there are a _lot_ of people that won't be happy to see you.  Me though, you can consider me an... interested friend.”

“Even if that were true, I'd never sell them out to the likes of you.”

The woman shrugged and leaned back against the alley's wall.  “That's a shame, we could have had such _fun_ together.  Still, we may as well play for a little longer, yeah?” She twitched her fingers; Zenyatta jerked upright from the strange, stiff resting position  he had been in.  “Who do you think will win?  You or the bot?  Guess we'll see.”

“No...” said Genji, backing away – but where would he go?  He couldn't leave Zenyatta in this woman's clutches.

“If you get tired, I'm sure I could be distracted by some other interesting information.  Access codes, callnames, that sort of thing.”

“I don't know anything,” Genji begged.

“Not yet, but you will.  You'll be my little friend on the inside.  Won't you?  Unless you want me to keep the monk for my friend instead.”

Zenyatta took another step forward, another – slow, measured, because the woman made them so, giving Genji time to stew.  And then, just as Zenyatta's fist rose once more, he stopped.  At first Genji thought it was a part of the purple woman's game, but it quickly became evident that this wasn't the case.  Her brows creased and her mouth pinched as her fingers jumped more aggressively against her holographic device.

“Move, damn you,” she snarled at the omnic.

Instead of moving though, all at once the lights on Zenyatta's forehead died out entirely and he dropped limply to the ground in a clatter of metal.

The fear in Genji's blood was almost tangible – had she... broken him? _Killed_ him?  Omnics were unbelievable complex, they weren't made to be hacked and controlled like a toy car, who knew what sort of damage...  But those thoughts had to be put aside.  For now.  For now, he could not be a monk, or a student, or a friend – all Genji could be was the ruthless, effective assassin he had been trained to be from birth.

In an instance, Genji had his sword whipped upright once more, its green glow cutting the sky in direct opposition to the woman's flourished purple.

“ _Ryūjin no ken wo kurae!_ ”

Genji had the vindictive pleasure of seeing the woman's eyes widen with brief terror, but then before his blade to hit flesh she was gone.

The street was dark and silent, even as Genji spun on the spot, trying to catch sight of the purple.

There was no one; Genji's sword dropped to drag on the ground, his entire body numb with terror.

“Zenyatta?” he called, taking halting steps towards the... the body.

“Genji.”

Genji could have cried with relief.  In a single motion the sword was sheathed and he was at Zenyatta's side, cradling the omnic's limp body; the lights remained off and the Zenyatta didn't move so much as a finger.

“What's happened?  Are you okay?”

“I... believe so.  I was able to circumvent her control well enough to shut off my physical functions.  I had hoped it would be enough for you to take action. I am proud of you, my student.”

Now Genji was crying, though it was safely hidden behind the faceplate. He bumped his head gently against Zenyatta's.

“She's gone,” he swore.  “Please, we can go now.”

“No.”

Genji swallowed.  “No?”

“You heard her, Genji.  Something serious is afoot, and we do not know who that woman was or where she is now.  She was able to get around my firewalls once, and I fear what might happen if she manages it again.”

“What are you proposing?” demanded Genji, pulling Zenyatta as close to him as he could.

“Nothing as drastic as you seem to suspect,” said Zenyatta, gently.  “If she is right... then it would appear that Overwatch has risen from its ashes, and may soon have a spot for you.  If that is the case... they were said to have had the best scientific teams on the planet working under them.  If anyone can inform us of who that was or the danger she poses – and help fortify us against it – it is them. You must go to them, and I must be deactivated until then.  Until it is safe.”

“Master, no!  You can't–”

“Genji, I must.  I...  Genji, to be trapped in your own body, to see yourself trying to commit an atrocity against someone you care deeply for... that is not something I can risk again.  I can't, Genji.”

“I... understand.  What needs to be done?”

“You must remove my core processor.  It is the only way we can guarantee that my body will remain inactive – as it is, I suspect she could remotely turn my physical functions back on if she wanted, if she'd had the time.  Mercifully, you did not give her any.  Take the processor, store it, and then once we are somewhere safe it can be reuploaded.”

It was only his synthetic muscles that stopped Genji from trembling. Zenyatta's core – it was a chip at the center of his head, his “brain” for all intent and purpose.  It housed his memories, his personality, it was the part of him that was _him_.

“Let us find a mechanic,” said Genji desperately, “an expert.  Then it can be removed safely, and...”

Zenyatta's hands rose and cupped Genji's; the blue lights had flickered back on and Zenyatta's head turned towards him.

“Genji,” he said, softly.  “We do not know who she is, or who she works for. You are the only one I trust to do this.”

Genji swallowed.  And acquiesced.  He lay Zenyatta's body down, carefully removed the faceplate, and opened the outer casing that made up Zenyatta's head – it was heavy, well protected, as the head housed the bulk of the omnics processes, much like a human.  From there, he very carefully extracted the chip.  It was tiny, all things considered.  So delicate.  One wrong move, and Zenyatta would be gone forever.  He thanked any gods listening for Angela's handiwork and the steadiness it granted him.  Very carefully, he opened a compartment on his own body, a small section for housing additional data chips that may have been needed during old Overwatch missions. Most of the slots were empty now; Genji very carefully slid Zenyatta's core into one of them.  He then put his master back together, gathered Zenyatta's scattered orbs which he shoved into his own bag and hefted both it and Zenyatta up onto his back, as if he were simply giving the omnic a piggyback.  He tried not to think about the black, void lights on Zenyatta's head, or the way he slumped against Genji's back.  A corpse.

It would appear it was time to pay some old friends a visit.


End file.
